Free Dion: His Life and Mine by Sarah Cate Anstey

where, unknown, he was welcomed by the King of Crete renowned for his hospitality towards strangers .
    “He sounds vicious, doesn‘t he? I shan’t be able to sleep at night until he‘s caught!” said my gullible friend when I had reached the end.
    “Pack of lies,” I spat out vehemently. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers,” shoving it back to my astonished companion. “You never know what they might write about you,” I warned her. Later, I would hear Daedalus’s side of the tragic tale.
     
    After a few days I began to know my regulars, what time they would come and how strong they’d need their infusion to be. But there was always a new face. One morning a young man, I hadn’t seen before, joined the queue. He didn’t look like my usual customers. Too clean for a start; people usually needed my herbs to revive them before they could start the day. But this one looked like he’d gone home, had a decent sleep, breakfast and a shave before meandering down to the beach. In short, he didn’t look like he needed my services. Still business is business. I soon realised he had other business on his mind when I passed him a cup and he smelt it distastefully. He made a show of sipping it before launching in;
    “You’re Ariadne of Crete aren’t you?”
    “Who wants to know?”
    “ The Akra Enquirer .”
    I gave him a cold stare and turned my back on him, but he powered on.
    “Bit of a comedown isn’t it? For a Princess? Brought up in one of the most beautiful palaces in the world, whisked off by one of the handsomest men in the world and now reduced to selling dope to dopes on the beach of a backwater island? – What happened love? Your boyfriend dump you?” He sneered spilling the contents of his cup on the sand.
    I told him where he could go.
    “Nice, very charming. I’d always assumed you Princesses washed your mouths out with soap and water. But then you were apprentice to a junkie, nympho witch weren’t you?”
    “It’s a lie. Bris wasn’t … Who told you that?”
    “Let’s just say I was due some holiday and spent the weekend on Crete. Very hospitable place - can’t think why you wanted to leave it.”
    I was boiling with rage, but managed, with as much dignity as one can, on sand, to walk away without punching him.
    “You might as well talk to me.” He shouted after me. “I’m going to write it anyway, so you might as well get paid for it. Your sister said the money would come in very handy …” He was right. I should have taken his money. It was obvious that he had the article in his mind, probably already written it, when he spoke to me. He may have changed it if I had said something interesting, but the truth doesn’t interest hacks like him.
    Nyx brought me the article two days later: Pretty Princess Laments Sister’s Shame . It was evident Phaedra had inherited our father’s flair for manipulating the press to advance personal agendas. I could put most of it down to envy but my thick skin was still growing and the line about Phaedra being left to mourn Aster’s death alone set it back. It was a cheap trick to sully Bris in such a way, but I had to hand it to her for the way she diplomatically praised Theo. Clearly that flame was still glowing, if ever he had need of its warmth.
    Any publicity is supposed to be good publicity. I don’t believe it and I know Dion didn’t either, but I admit that the newspaper article didn’t damage my business, it increased it.  Amongst my newest clientele was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, or rather one of them. I had noticed a group of similar women on the beach, the afternoon of my encounter with the Akra hack, all tall with perfect figures and black hair cascading down their backs. This one was wearing a top with glittery letters on it, which made it difficult to read. Compared to my usual customers, she looked exquisite. She strode past the queue confidently, handed me an envelope and, taking a cup,